


As I Say

by evrybodysdarlin



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dominance, Leadership, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evrybodysdarlin/pseuds/evrybodysdarlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam relies on Jon to lead him...in every capacity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Say

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the following anonymous prompt over at [](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/)**asoiafkinkmeme** :
> 
>  
> 
> _Jon Snow x Sam - Sam learns that Jon is one hell of a Commander in the bedroom too_
> 
>  
> 
> [Here](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/1704.html?thread=335784#t335784) is the original prompt and my original reply.
> 
> The original version of this story had a dreadful tense shift right in the middle! For shame!  
>   
> 

Even though he was a self-admitted coward, Sam was the one who made the first move.

Jon and Sam ended up on watch together a lot, which Sam suspected was an act of kindness on behalf of the commanders, because everyone knew that Jon and Sam were friends (although nobody, including Sam, understood why).

When you sat there for hours in the dark, looking out over the endless abyss on the other side of the wall, strange words came out of you, things that you didn't mean to admit, and Jon and Sam talked a lot up there, huddled around a tiny fire, a little flame so inadequate against the magnitude of the darkness.

Sam found out about Jon's childhood--loved, but never accepted, always hidden, always ashamed. He watched Jon in the firelight then, saw his ever-changing expressions, and he began to feel that he could read Jon Snow's face like a book--and Sam was awfully good at reading books.

Sam told Jon about his life, too. He had been a wanted, legitimate, oldest son...but he was always a disappointment. He was only happy when he was doing something that a knight shouldn't be doing--reading a book, playing with his cats, or sitting by his mother while she sewed. He tried to explain to Jon how sweet it had been sit at his mother's knee. He would be there holding the yarn she was winding, or reading aloud to her, or just listening to her talk about her day, and she would stroke his hair back from his forehead and smile at him and he knew he was _home_.

It was one of these times, talking about his mother, that set the whole thing off. He was rambling a bit, he had to admit, talking about how they would drink tea together in the afternoons, and he saw the most horrible look cross Jon's face. It was utter despondency, loss, a face with no hope in it. It was like a shadow falling across his face, so deep that his handsome visage was eclipsed, and the sight of it stopped Sam's words mid-sentence.

Sam reached out and cupped Jon's face, holding Jon's stubbled cheeks in both hands, turning his sad, dark eyes toward him, poring over his face like a difficult book, trying to solve the problem.

And the solution that his brain told him was to kiss him. So he did.

Samwell Tarly, coward and failed lord, bravely pulled Jon Snow's face up to his and kissed him thoroughly on the lips.

The moment the kiss was over, though, Sam's courage and resolve ran out, and he stared at Jon blankly, dumbfounded by his own action, a coward once again. He sat frozen for a few horrible, infinite moments, and he could tell that the look on his own face said, _I don't know what to do_. Every bit of cowardice seeped back into him...and then Jon spoke.

"You'll sleep in my room tonight, Sam." It was his commander's voice, the strong voice he used when he coached the other boys in swordplay, and hearing it in this context somehow gave Sam a little thrill all over.

Sam was still staring blankly, and Jon reached out, quick as a striking snake, and took hold of Sam's chin, tilting his head back. "Say yes," he whispered, and the air from his words rushed across Sam's own lips, and Sam's eyes fell closed without his permission.

"Yes," he whispered back.

They had to pull apart then, because they heard two sets of footsteps--the next watch coming to relieve them.

They stood up, stretching, and Sam wondered if the spell was broken and he and Jon would go back to their own rooms and act as if nothing had happened, but then Jon grabbed his arm as he began to walk away, and he whispered, "Come."

Sam followed Jon, silent, and Jon didn't let go of his arm as they walked. Tingles went up his arm from the place Jon was touching him, and his skin prickled with goosebumps. Sam felt like he'd drunk too much wine, just from this little touch, and he thought, _I'd follow you anywhere, do anything for you_.

When they got to Jon's room, Jon sent Ghost out to guard the door, and then they were alone in his little chamber. Once again, Sam froze, awkwardness and fear overwhelming him, and then Jon was _on_ him. Jon's hand was in Sam's hair, pulling his head back, and Jon was kissing his lips, and Jon's other hand had found its way down to rub and clutch at Sam's hips, and it was perfect.  
  
Just as Sam got used to the teasing pleasure of Jon's touch, Jon was moving, using his muscled body to push Sam back towards the bed, being a little rough. The back of Sam's knees hit the bed and he fell back, helpless and clumsy, embarrassed, but then Jon was speaking.  
  
"Take your clothes off."  
  
Sam could feel himself blush. Why would anyone ever want to see him with his clothes off? He was ashamed of his pale, chubby body, and he knew that Jon would never want to continue...whatever they were doing once he saw how unattractive Sam really was.  
  
"Show me, I want to see you." Jon's last word was a half-moan, breaking his authoritative voice, and Sam saw that Jon's eyes were half-lidded like his, and his hand was straying down toward the front of his breeches. _He actually wants me,_ Sam thought with a shock, and he began fumbling with the laces of his clothes, pulling off the heavy garments until he was bare, lying back on the pillow, feeling for all the world like a trembling maiden on her wedding night.  
  
Jon crawled up the bed, still fully clothed, moving slowly like a stalking animal and Sam was struck with anticipation and a little fear as his best friend moved toward him.  
  
Then Jon was on top of him, his full weight pressing down on Sam. They were lined up, toe to toe, and every part of Jon's beautiful body was pressed up against Sam's, and they were kissing again. Sam squirmed and moaned with pleasure, rubbing up on Jon, forgetting to be shy. Jon's hands were wandering all over Sam's exposed body, and then his fingers found Sam's achingly hard cock.  
  
“Is this for me?” Jon's voice was husky, demanding, and Sam whimpered. Of course it was for him, who else had ever made him feel this way?  
  
“Answer me,” Jon pressed. “Out loud. Is this for me?”  
  
“Yes,” Sam gasped. “Yes, for you, anything you want.”  
  
Jon immediately began stroking Sam firmly, as though rewarding his words. “Anything?” he whispered. “Anything I want?” His hand sped up. “If I asked you to, would you fuck me?”  
  
Sam's cock twitched involuntarily at the words, and Jon laughed, breath blowing in Sam's ear. “You would. But I know what you really want. You want me to take you, instead. You're already spreading your legs for me.” Sam realized, desperately embarrassed, that it was true, that he had spread his legs a little and that Jon was already settled between them, pressed up against Sam's cock that was so hard and leaking.  
  
Jon slid down his body, quick like a predator, and licked the liquid off the tip of his cock, and Sam moaned helplessly. Jon's fingers slipped between his legs, touching him where no one had touched him before, just teasing and rubbing, and Sam's moans turned into pleading whines.  
  
“You're so hot for it,” Jon murmured. “So hot for me.” He moved back up Sam's body and growled in his ear. “But you won't have anything until _I_ decide to give it to you.” The hardness in his voice excited Sam even further, and he found himself babbling.  
  
“Yes, yes, whatever you want. What you want,” he gasped.  
  
“So good,” Jon purred, and then he was reaching for the balm by his bedside and his fingers were slick and slipping inside of Sam.  
  
Jon went slow, stretching him out little by little, until Sam was begging for more, but Jon just leaned up to him and whispered “When I say, Sam. Wait.”

Finally, finally, Jon slipped his clothes off (and gods, he was so beautiful that Sam couldn't keep his eyes off of him), and then, at last, he slid inside of him and they were joined.

_This is the closest I've ever been to anyone,_ Sam thought, and he was so overwhelmed by the magnitude that he closed his eyes, but then Jon stilled inside him and whispered, “Look at me. Open your eyes, I want to see you.”

Sam forced his eyes open, and Jon began moving again, setting a fast pace, and Sam was feeling wrecked, like he could laugh or cry with all the pleasure, and the room was spinning around him, but he kept his eyes open, because Jon asked him to.

They stared into each other's eyes, barely blinking, both crying out wordlessly as they moved. It went fast, and then Jon's body was tensing up, and he whispered “Come. Come for me, Sam,” and Sam did, instantly, like he was under a spell. Jon followed him over the edge immediately, and then they lay still, spent and silent for a few minutes.

“You know, you're awfully good at that,” Sam finally said, and Jon, still sheathed inside him and lazily lounging on his chest, burst into startled laughter. Sam loved the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled.

“Thank you, but I think I could still improve with more practice. What do you think?”

Sam smiled and closed his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

  



End file.
